Skinscript (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
skinscript) wrote2006-12-25 10:27 pm
skinscript) wrote2006-12-25 10:27 pm
Entry tags:
Action, or Apathy?
I've been thinking about the nature of responsibility. At least, I think that's the word I'm looking for...
The other night I was driving home from the store and I passed a bicycle in the ditch. It was dark, full night, no moon, and it was damned cold out. I was about 4 km from home, dinner was waiting for me, and I didn't see anyone with the bike.
It was lying on its side, a blue ten speed with a baby seat mounted behind the regular seat. It was on it's side in the ditch such that all I could see was the wheels in the air and the bottom of the baby seat. I went past it at about 70 km/hr, and I kept going.
But you know - that bike? It bothered me. Why was it in the ditch with the handlebars and seat down? Most people if they were just leaving the bike would have left it with the wheels down, not the top. It was a pretty deep ditch there. What if there was someone in the ditch? What if the baby seat wasn't actually empty? I'm a pretty observant driver - unusually so - what if no one else saw it?
I kept driving. Now about 2.5 km from home.
What if tomorrow I read in the paper about some poor bastard who was struck by a car and who died cause no one stopped? What if it was an abduction? I pictured myself turning around, checking it out. I passed five, maybe six different streets that could be used as such.
1.5 km from home.
I could go home and call 911 - or call the police dispatch. And why doesn't the non-emergency dispatch have its own shortcut phone number, anyway? Maybe there wouldn't be so many useless 911 non-emergency calls if there was a shortcut. Wasn't carrying my cell phone. Even IF someone was there, I wouldn't be able to actually get any help. And most likely there was no one there. It was right beside a cemetery - most likely someone had gone inside and their bike had fallen over.
Most likely.
1 km to home.
I used to work in downtown Toronto, on Front Street at Jarvis / Church. This is an upscale but shabby area of the city, with a large number of homeless and panhandlers. In front of my building, I once saw a fellow in the full heat of summer, passed out on the sidewalk. It was damned hot - like frying eggs hot, and as I stepped past him I couldn't even see if he was breathing. I went inside my building and I just couldn't let it go in my head.
I was thinking of that lady, in the states, who was raped and stabbed in front of an entire apartment building full of witnesses... none of whom called the police or intervened. Can you imagine the guilt those people must have felt? What kind of guilt would I have if I left him?
This still bothers me, because just a couple of nights ago, man... I *wanted* to go home. I was tired and I wanted my dinner and I just ... did not want to turn around.
A half-kilometre to go.
That day, downtown, I went to the kitchen in my building, and I got some bottles of cold water. I got one of the other people to go with me, and I went back to the fellow on the sidewalk. There had been hundreds of people who had gone past him while I was inside. Understand this fellow was taking up almost the entire sidewalk. People were stepping over him, not just walking around. I went up to him, crouched down, was jostled by the people passing. The other employee was shaking his head at me, and I was shaking cause as I got closer I was so scared he was dead. I shook his shoulder, and after a long minute his eyes opened. He was totally drunk, hot to the touch, and after we got him into the shade of an overhang we gave him the water. The look he gave me was absolute shock - shock not just that we'd brought him something to drink, but that we'd stopped at all.
Two houses from my driveway I turned around and went back to the bike. Pulled into the cemetary, went to look.
No one in the ditch. No signs of a struggle. Marks on the grass showed that the bike had tumbled from a perch against the fence, hence ending up upside down in the ditch. I pulled it back up, put it back against the fence, hooked it so it would stand. Then I went home.
When I was walking to the ditch, I counted.
Eighteen cars passed me.
Every single driver looked away.
God, I am glad I wasn't one of them.
Cause you know what? Dinner can wait.
The other night I was driving home from the store and I passed a bicycle in the ditch. It was dark, full night, no moon, and it was damned cold out. I was about 4 km from home, dinner was waiting for me, and I didn't see anyone with the bike.
It was lying on its side, a blue ten speed with a baby seat mounted behind the regular seat. It was on it's side in the ditch such that all I could see was the wheels in the air and the bottom of the baby seat. I went past it at about 70 km/hr, and I kept going.
But you know - that bike? It bothered me. Why was it in the ditch with the handlebars and seat down? Most people if they were just leaving the bike would have left it with the wheels down, not the top. It was a pretty deep ditch there. What if there was someone in the ditch? What if the baby seat wasn't actually empty? I'm a pretty observant driver - unusually so - what if no one else saw it?
I kept driving. Now about 2.5 km from home.
What if tomorrow I read in the paper about some poor bastard who was struck by a car and who died cause no one stopped? What if it was an abduction? I pictured myself turning around, checking it out. I passed five, maybe six different streets that could be used as such.
1.5 km from home.
I could go home and call 911 - or call the police dispatch. And why doesn't the non-emergency dispatch have its own shortcut phone number, anyway? Maybe there wouldn't be so many useless 911 non-emergency calls if there was a shortcut. Wasn't carrying my cell phone. Even IF someone was there, I wouldn't be able to actually get any help. And most likely there was no one there. It was right beside a cemetery - most likely someone had gone inside and their bike had fallen over.
Most likely.
1 km to home.
I used to work in downtown Toronto, on Front Street at Jarvis / Church. This is an upscale but shabby area of the city, with a large number of homeless and panhandlers. In front of my building, I once saw a fellow in the full heat of summer, passed out on the sidewalk. It was damned hot - like frying eggs hot, and as I stepped past him I couldn't even see if he was breathing. I went inside my building and I just couldn't let it go in my head.
I was thinking of that lady, in the states, who was raped and stabbed in front of an entire apartment building full of witnesses... none of whom called the police or intervened. Can you imagine the guilt those people must have felt? What kind of guilt would I have if I left him?
This still bothers me, because just a couple of nights ago, man... I *wanted* to go home. I was tired and I wanted my dinner and I just ... did not want to turn around.
A half-kilometre to go.
That day, downtown, I went to the kitchen in my building, and I got some bottles of cold water. I got one of the other people to go with me, and I went back to the fellow on the sidewalk. There had been hundreds of people who had gone past him while I was inside. Understand this fellow was taking up almost the entire sidewalk. People were stepping over him, not just walking around. I went up to him, crouched down, was jostled by the people passing. The other employee was shaking his head at me, and I was shaking cause as I got closer I was so scared he was dead. I shook his shoulder, and after a long minute his eyes opened. He was totally drunk, hot to the touch, and after we got him into the shade of an overhang we gave him the water. The look he gave me was absolute shock - shock not just that we'd brought him something to drink, but that we'd stopped at all.
Two houses from my driveway I turned around and went back to the bike. Pulled into the cemetary, went to look.
No one in the ditch. No signs of a struggle. Marks on the grass showed that the bike had tumbled from a perch against the fence, hence ending up upside down in the ditch. I pulled it back up, put it back against the fence, hooked it so it would stand. Then I went home.
When I was walking to the ditch, I counted.
Eighteen cars passed me.
Every single driver looked away.
God, I am glad I wasn't one of them.
Cause you know what? Dinner can wait.